


full up

by plingo_kat



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sounding, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-12-30 19:27:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18321713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plingo_kat/pseuds/plingo_kat
Summary: He knows it’s a bad idea as he pulls out the rod.





	full up

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the exact [kink meme prompt](https://umbrellakink.dreamwidth.org/284.html?thread=75548) that you'd expect.

He knows it’s a bad idea as he pulls out the rod.

It’s just -- it’s been a while, even before all the bullshit with the apocalypse. And afterward they all decided to move back into the mansion: to support each other, to try and rebuild bridges most of them burned long before. Which, yeah, great, but also means they once again live in close proximity, in their childhood bedrooms.

They basically revert back to being teenagers.

There’s no fucking privacy. Mom does all the cooking and cleaning. Lifelong habits reassert themselves, like Allison escaping onto the roof or Klaus locking himself in the bathroom for forty minutes every morning doing who knows what. Diego always liked the safety of his room, the quiet order there, but another one of his haunts was the library -- at least, after dark. The smell of books and old carpet soothed him, just like the even narrow spaces between the stacks. He’s spent a lot of time there when he can’t sleep.

But for this. For this, he’s locked in his bedroom, and he just goddamn _hopes_ he can keep quiet enough that nobody overhears.

He re-sterilizes everything just in case and slicks up the sound, biting his lip. Flicks his eyes to the window and then moves everything to the bed, shoving his pillow to the side so he can sit with his back to the wall. The plaster is cold against his skin.

 _Breathe._ He’s already half-hard, and his lungs shudder as he presses the tip against himself. Oh god, it’s going to hurt, it’s been so long, he can’t fucking _wait_ \--

A soft whine escapes on his next exhale and he bites the inside of his cheek. Quiet. if he holds his breath, he won’t make any noise. The sound presses in, in, an urgent flare of sensation at the head of his cock that makes his hands want to shake as he plumps up further, like the metal is stopping him up. His heartbeat pounds so loudly in his ears that he fails to hear the faint scratching at the door.

“Oh my god,” Klaus says. He’s holding a paperclip and steel pin.

Diego pulls the sound out in one swift movement and yelps. Klaus stands in his doorway, eyes wide.

“What the fuck!” Diego whisper-yells, voice an octave higher than normal. He stares at the bits of hallway visible past Klaus’ body. “Get the fuck out!”

Klaus ignores him and steps inside, closing the door. Relief loosens the knot in Diego’s chest despite how Klaus is still present.

“Are you...?”

Diego can’t help but look down, as if the tableau will change when he checks: him, naked, holding a thin metal rod covered in lube, obviously aroused. His face flushes. He wants to fall through the floor. He should drop the sound and cover himself. He should--

Klaus steps forward and puts his hands on Diego’s knees.

“Do you want some help?” His voice is low, a husky whisper. Diego’s cock twitches. They’re both watching. “Oh... looks like you do. God, when did you... I can’t even...”

His fingers tighten on Diego’s skin, pressing into the muscle of his thighs. He leans in far enough for their foreheads to touch, pushes them together until Diego lifts his chin and meets Klaus’ eyes. They’re already blown wide, somehow more intense without the makeup.

“Let me,” Klaus whispers, the sweetest ruin. Diego is frozen, mind full of blank static. But... his hand, fingers trembling, offers up the sound.

Klaus makes a wounded noise and takes it, reverent, falling to his knees by the side of the bed. “C’mere,” he says, and he sounds drunk, slurred and breathless. He tugs at Diego’s ankle and Diego obediently scoots forward until his groin is nearly in Klaus’ face. Fuck, this is really happening.

A groan forces its way out of his throat as Klaus gets his hand around him and pumps once, twice, just feeling him out. His thumb messes over the head, the slit already sensitive, already forced open, and Diego gasps. Klaus up at him through his eyelashes.

“Ready?”

Diego nods, wordless. The want has him by the throat and chokes the coherence right out of him, leaving him dumb and mute. If he tried to talk he knows he’d stutter.

“God,” Klaus repeats, almost to himself. He places the tip of the sound at Diego’s slit and pauses until Diego whines.

It’s -- fuck, it’s so much _more_ when Diego doesn’t know the next move, how fast or slow, whether the next jittering inch will be _too much_. He wonders if he tells Klaus he can’t take it, would he stop? Would he even be able to get the words out past the urgent burning stretch, the fullness pushing deep into him, plugging him?

“There you go,” Klaus breathes as the last bit slides in, the round ball at the top cold on the head of his dick. “Fuck, that is so pretty.”

Diego groans, close-mouthed, teeth biting into his lip. He wants Klaus to jerk him off -- no, he wants Klaus’ _mouth_ , he wants--

Klaus kisses him, there at the tip, flicks his tongue out to touch the bead at the end. Fuck, the _visual_ , Klaus’ pink tongue over the clean steel and the flushed head of his cock... and he feels it too, the lever of movement right up against his prostate. His knees jerk.

“Shh,” Klaus says, and the rush of air is a torment. And then.

Diego shoves his wrist in his mouth and bites down _hard_ to muffle the wail that claws its way free as Klaus sucks him down in one easy movement. The change in angle shifts the sound inside him, pressing harder into his prostate and it’s too much, he’s already going to come, he _can’t_ \--

Klaus bobs, pulling up, taps his teeth to the metal. The vibration shudders all the way up Diego’s spine and forces another wounded noise out of him.

“Klaus,” he whimpers, strained. Still trying to be quiet. “Klaus, please, I’m gonna-- _aah!_ ”

He pulls off completely, and Diego misses the hot wetness of his mouth almost as much as he is relieved. There’s a tightness in his throat and a hot itch in his eyes; he’s _so close_.

Klaus strokes him, loose and easy. Looks up at him through those ridiculous eyelashes. 

“You going to come for me, Diego?” His pink tongue swipes over his bottom lip. “Gonna try ‘til you just... burst?”

He firms his grip on the next pull, gives a rhythmic squeeze. Presses him close all around the rod until he can feel every immovable inch, crammed tight, rigid in him, unyielding -- his mouth gasps open and he’s coming but he’s still stopped up, he can’t, he’s going to burst just like Klaus said and--

He sobs aloud when Klaus pulls the sound out as he comes, harder than he ever had before in his life, like his come is pushing the rod free. He might even black out a little bit, because the next thing he knows is that Klaus has a stripe of come on his cheek and in his beard, and he thumbs it off and licks himself clean. Diego’s balls gives another twitch and it _hurts_.

“Fuck,” he says, slurred, throat ruined. His cheeks are wet.

“Fuck,” Klaus echoes, worshipful. “Can you, _hnn_ , lie back?”

Diego’s eyes are drawn to the rhythmic movement of his arm, the way his cock peeks out from between his fingers. He flops down obediently, feeling like his brain is swimming through amber. Klaus stands and jerks off over him, fingers tracing over his ribs, the jut of his hip, his thigh. His nipple ring, until Diego twitches away.

After Diego is striped with Klaus’ own come, Klaus falls face down next to him on the bed.

“Wow,” he says, muffled. “That was... really good.”

“You asshole,” Diego says, hazy. He should get up and clean off, but all he wants to do is sleep. “My door was locked for a reason.”

“Shitty reason,” Klaus says, still faceplanted in the mattress. “This was way better.”

“I’ll kill you in the morning.” Diego closes his eyes. “You’re dead.”

Klaus’ arm is suddenly over his chest, his leg thrown over Diego’s hip. A blanket is dragged over both of them.

“Fuckin’ cuddling,” Diego mutters, already drifting away. The last thing he remembers hearing is Klaus’ soft laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> (The next morning: Diego wakes up and he's the little spoon. He elbows Klaus hard enough to knock him off the bed. The sound clatters to the floor at approximately 2000 decibels and he regrets everything, immediately.
> 
> Klaus is just super smug.)
> 
> also! the sounding practices depicted here are not fully recommended according to my (fairly cursory) research; klaus should have cleaned his hands and diego should have peed before he went to sleep. so, you know. do your research before you try this at home, friends.
> 
> plingokat @ twitter


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